Over the course of a few months, Qiao Si had received numerous such postcards, small gifts, and frequent phone calls. It was as if Duan Heng had thrown caution to the wind, openly employing a courtship style reminiscent of a high school romance. 

Qiao Si found it rather novel, though only in the way one might be intrigued by a fleeting oddity. Throughout his lifetime, he had encountered countless individuals, both genuine and deceitful, vied for his favor with an endless arsenal of tactics, leaving him immune to any more surprises. 

However, there were moments when he awoke from his dreams, recalling the self he had been many years ago, when he was still known as “Qiao Shi.” 

Everyone was once young and naive, but time marches on and those chapters that were marked by both joy and pain, can never be relived. 

Even for someone like him, hardened and transformed into the man he had become, would still find himself sitting alone in the dead of night, grasping at the remnants of those bygone days. 

There was a banquet scheduled in the coming days, and Qiao Si had hoped to seize the opportunity to meet Qiao Che. Yet, any such hope was dashed when Qiao Che made it unequivocally clear that he would not be attending. 

Qiao Che’s unwavering hatred towards him mirrored the steadfast affection Qiao Si had harbored for a decade. 

In the past, he would resort to force, compelling Qiao Che into submission. However, after years of such futile attempts, he found himself incapable of continuing, while Qiao Che remained as stubborn as ever. It was hard not to acknowledge the sheer determination behind such tenacity. 

With Duan Heng’s absence, Qiao Si was left with a sense of loss for the first time. Without his presence, there was no means of drawing Qiao Che into his orbit. 

Consequently, when a phone call from Duan Heng came through, Qiao Si, almost without thinking, spoke from the heart, “It would be great if you’re here.” 

Though he was well aware of Duan Heng’s habitual obedience, Qiao Si was still taken aback to see him appear before him that very evening. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” 

The young man smiled and replied, “I managed to push a few scenes and shot them ahead of schedule. As long as I return by tomorrow morning, it should be fine.” 

Hearing him brush it off so casually, Qiao Si knew how demanding their work was, often depriving them of proper sleep. The effort to carve out an entire evening like this was nothing short of extravagant. “It’s really not a big deal. You didn’t need to rush back,” he remarked. 

“Fourth Master wanting to see me… that’s a big deal.” 

The young man’s expression was earnest, and for a brief moment, Qiao Si felt a strange sensation stir within him. It took him several seconds to recognize this unfamiliar feeling as what one might call “reluctance.” 

“Fourth Master,” the ever so dutiful Qiao Bo followed him in, and asked, “Shall I invite Fifth Master once more?” 

Duan Heng was momentarily startled, turning to glance at Qiao Bo, then back at Qiao Si. When realization hit him like a brick, his eyes widened with an expression reminiscent of a dog’s loyal bewilderment. 

After a moment’s pause, Qiao Si eventually spoke, “Go change into some clean clothes.” 

Despite it being an unexpected—layered upon yet another unexpected—turn of events, Duan Heng handled everything with no disruptions, as he was, after all, a master of restraint. The banquet unfolded smoothly, and to Qiao Si’s quiet satisfaction, Qiao Che indeed made an appearance. 

For Qiao Si, the night could be counted as a rare moment of pleasantness. 

As the banquet concluded and the guests gradually departed, the hour had grown late. When Qiao Si went upstairs, he caught sight of Duan Heng already changed back into the clothes he arrived in and was sitting there lacing up his shoes. 

“Fourth Master, I’ll be on my way now.” 

Qiao Si watched him, while Duan Heng focused solely on the floor with his head lowered, exposing the nape of his neck to Qiao Si. 

“Didn’t you say it should be fine if you scheduled a flight the next morning?” 

“No, the filming schedule is quite tight.” 

For once, Qiao Si showed a rare patience, and said, “Since you’re already here, you might as well rest for the night before heading back.” 

Duan Heng replied while continuing to fasten his shoes; head still bowed. “I’ve completed what you asked me to do, Fourth Master. I should be going now.” 

It was a rare occasion for this young man to be so stubborn. Qiao Si somehow felt a bit agitated, and said, “When I tell you to stay, you stay. What’s there to discuss?” 

Duan Heng remained silent for a moment, still keeping his head lowered. He then began to undo the shoelaces he had just tied and said, “Fifth Master has already left. Is there anything else you require of me, Fourth Master?” 

Qiao Si approached him, placing his hand on the nape of his neck before moving it up to gently stroke his head. 

“You’ve done well today.” 

The young man said nothing. 

“I won’t let you come all the way here for nothing,” Qiao Si continued, soothingly running his fingers through his soft hair. “How do you feel about the house halfway up the mountain?” 

No sooner had he spoken than he heard a sharp smack as his hand was ruthlessly slapped away. 

The physical pain was secondary; what truly shocked Qiao Si was Duan Heng’s audacity. This was no ordinary act of defiance. “You’re being insolent!” Qiao Si reprimanded. 

Duan Heng lifted his head, his gaze was somewhat akin to a glare with an intensity Qiao Si had never seen before. The corners of his eyes were tinged with shades of red, seemed to hold something, as if he were struggling to contain his emotions. 

“What am I to you?” 

This was nothing short of rebellion. Qiao Si had never imagined he would be questioned in such a manner. For a moment, he was at a loss for words, staring into Duan Heng’s bloodshot stare before finally managing, “You’re a grown man, and yet…” 

Tears were not shed easily by men, and the fact that Duan Heng was so aggrieved over such a matter was utterly inconceivable. The sheer absurdity of it left Qiao Si forgetting to reprimand Duan Heng’s impudence. Instead, he placed his hand back on Duan Heng’s head, his tone slipping into something inexplicable even to himself. “You… really are such a young soul.” 

After all, it was only in the fervent days of his own youth that he had ever experienced such unrestrained, earnest tears—a purity of emotion that now seemed as remote and intangible as a fading dream. 

Suddenly, Duan Heng pulled him into a fierce embrace, the strength in his arms around Qiao Si’s waist portraying a depth of emotion that bordered on desperation. 

Momentarily taken aback, Qiao Si felt a faint stir of warmth, an unexpected tenderness kindled by the memory of their shared years. Duan Heng had remained steadfast by his side through so much, and though Qiao Si seldom allowed sentimentality to surface, he could not entirely ignore the subtle fondness that now emerged. Almost instinctively, his hand moved to gently stroke the young man’s head. 

The depth of his genuine sorrow resonated with him far more deeply than any superficial display of happiness. 

Seated as he was, Duan Heng clung to him while Qiao Si remained standing, the embrace lingered in an almost fragile equilibrium. Then, the arms encircling his waist loosened, only to be abruptly pulled downward, feeling the fervent heat of trembling lips against his own 

The kiss arrived with a startling suddenness, the young man’s breath carrying a fervent urgency, tinged with the petulance of someone who was indulging in a fit of grievance-fueled defiance. The probing tip of his tongue pressed in with an almost unrefined boldness, its intrusion so forceful that it grazed Qiao Si’s lips painfully. 

Qiao Si attempted to nudge the youth’s forehead, but this time, Duan Heng was no longer the obedient dog he so often displayed. Instead, he held Qiao Si tightly on his lap, cradling the back of his head to deepen the kiss with deliberate intensity. 

The entwined lips and tongues, the raw heat of such an intimate exchange, felt unsettling to Qiao Si. Never before had he shared a kiss with Duan Heng of this nature. 

Their physical intimacy had always begun with Duan Heng’s ministrations below his region. Qiao Si could not suppress the growing sense of absurdity, as though the touch of his lips were an anomaly, out of place in a moment that should have felt entirely different. 

The tempestuous kiss left Qiao Si gasping for air, and Duan Heng boldly allowed his hand to wander its way under his shirt, his thumb pressing against the sensitive nipple. A shiver coursed through Qiao Si’s frame, and with great effort, he tore himself from the embrace, his voice a harsh rebuke as he spoke, “Insolence!” 

However, in the blink of an eye, Duan Heng, undeterred, captured his lips once more, his tongue slithered in deep and possessive, while his hands traced the contours of his back and buttocks, drawing Qiao Si closer towards him. 

Qiao Si’s breath coming in ragged gasps as he found himself struggling to maintain his composure. 

Amidst the deep, relentless kiss, the two men’s bodies, encased in the confines of their respective clothing, pressed against each other with an intensity that ignited a primal fire within. The younger man’s arousal was visible, a raw, untamed force that pulsed beneath the thin fabric. It was as though the unabashed hunger of the young man had subtly awakened a response in Qiao Si, and before he could fully grasp it, he found himself reacting in kind. 

He had always been accustomed to Duan Heng’s disciplined restraint, to the deliberate control that had marked their interactions. Yet, in this moment, the rare shift from decorum—this unguarded display of passion—was what unexpectedly ignited something deeper within him that he had long thought extinguished. 

At last, the tempestuous kiss came to a halt. Duan Heng withdrew, his gaze darkened with unspoken emotions, a hint of raw desire glimmering in his eyes. One hand rested firmly against Qiao Si’s hip, its warmth unmistakable, his expression one of barely restrained longing. Yet, despite the fire within threatened to consume him, he maintained a precarious control, a subtle acknowledgement of the boundaries that dared not be crossed. 

After all, indulgence had its limits; a stolen kiss and an outright transgression were leagues apart in the unspoken hierarchy of their dynamic. 

Perched atop him, Qiao Si was acutely aware of the taut muscles beneath him; the tension radiated with every subtle shift of movement, and the changes in Duan Heng’s expression a testament to the intensity. Qiao Si paused for a moment before asking, “Do you still have the strength?” 

The strain of the long-haul flight and the evening filled with social engagements had Duan Heng presenting a paradoxically alluring figure and Qiao Si had no intention of indulging in something that would fall short of its promise—mere flashes of thunder without the storm—were nothing but a profound disappointment. The last thing he desired was to have the moment extinguished before it even began. 

His question landed with precision, shattering the air of composure Duan Heng had worked so hard to maintain. A blush of a red hue painted across his face, betraying the unspoken turmoil beneath his outward restraint, as he pursed his lips in a fleeting moment, then gradually slid off his trousers. A simple gesture that carried his answer with far more conviction than any spoken reply ever could. 

Duan Heng’s strength was as unrelenting as his resolve, mirrored the silent conviction with which he had answered. Effortlessly lifted Qiao Si and pinned him against the wall with a steadiness that indicated the complete absence of hesitation. What followed was a moment of unbreakable, enduring fervor that seemed to defy the constraints of time itself, as their forms intertwined in the hallway; the chaos of their passion apparent in every discarded piece of clothing, with even undergarments trailing at their ankles. 

Compared to the reckless behavior of his youth, this indulgence was hardly scandalous. Yet, perhaps due to the position they were in, or simply because he was the one being penetrated, he could not suppress the moans that escaped him when his body responded to Duan Heng’s every movement. As the rhythm between them deepened, a warmth crept up his face, an involuntary flush that portrayed the intensity he was experiencing. 

The hallway was merely a prelude to the tempest that would unfold in the bedroom. Their passion grew with each passing moment, boundless and uninhibited, as they explored the depths of their desire. 

Qiao Si allowed himself to remain in a position of effortless repose, savoring the moment with minimal exertion, and found himself overwhelmed after several rounds. Yet, as the unrelenting fervor continued unabated, a slow ache began to creep into his waist, and his legs grew unsteady. Meanwhile, Duan Heng showed no sign of stopping, his boundless energy pressing Qiao Si deeper into the bed, each movement leaving him increasingly breathless and light-headed. 

Qiao Si marveled at the unyielding vitality of the young man. Each movement from Duan Heng seemed charged with a fervor that defied reason. It was only after an extended, breath-stealing kiss that Qiao Si had to summon the strength to subtly gesture for the young man to ease off. 

Even as Qiao Si conveyed his silent plea, Duan Heng still remained driven by the intensity that seemed impossible to control on command. His restraint frayed at the edges, and with a deep, unsteady breath, he tightened his grip on Qiao Si’s hand and shifted themselves to a different position, His voice, low and hoarse, broke through the heated silence. “Just bear a little longer…” 

Qiao Si could feel the dampness of Duan Heng’s body, slick with the sweat from the intense passion, and the seemingly inexhaustible fervor that was pulsating beneath him. The intensity of their connection left his senses numbed in places from the friction, but it was not merely the physical sensation that pushed him to his peak—it was the sight of the young man’s face, contorted in a mask of ecstatic abandon, a reflection of pure rapture and devotion that propelled him over the edge. 

In the aftermath of their passion, it was only fitting that they succumbed to the inevitable pull of exhaustion. 

Utterly spent, Qiao Si rolled onto his side and surrendered to sleep. The warm embrace of Duan Heng’s arms enveloped him from behind, his chest radiating a steady warmth against Qiao Si’s back. Somewhere in the haze of half-consciousness, Qiao Si became vaguely aware of Duan Heng’s gaze nesting upon him. Yet, in this rare moment of repose, he allowed himself to drift into an unguarded slumber, cocooned in an unfamiliar sense of comfort. 

It was uncertain how long he had slept. It felt as though he had traversed an endless dreamscape, while paradoxically feeling as if only an instant had slipped by before a gentle shake roused him from his slumber. 

Through the fog of his blurry sight, Duan Heng’s face came into view. 

“Fourth Master, I’ll be on my way now.” 

His deep voice lilted in the dim pre-dawn light, as though woven from the fabric of a dream. The world outside seemed to weep softly, the gentle patter of rain a distant lullaby in the quiet of the early morn. 

Qiao Si vaguely heard himself murmuring a soft “Mn…” 

The young man leaned closer, his lips brushing against Qiao Si’s in a series of ephemeral yet beguiling kisses. Drawn by the tender warmth of their closeness, Qiao Si felt his thoughts blur as he drifted once more into the peaceful warmth of slumber. 

When he stirred awake again, a chill had settled in the room. The rain outside had brought with it a sudden drop in temperature. He instinctively reached for the half-draped blanket that had slipped to the edge of the bed, drawing it over himself in search of warmth. The room was eerily empty, and his glance fell upon the clock, revealed the afternoon had already arrived. It seemed Duan Heng had long since departed. 

As he sat alone, staring at the disarray left by two people, Qiao Si vaguely recalled that Duan Heng had probably said goodbye. Yet, the solitude brought a sense of emptiness. 

It was not long before a phone call from Duan Heng came through again. Qiao Si was in the midst of managing internal affairs of the organization. Upon hearing it was Duan Heng, he accepted the call immediately, his calm gesture signaling his subordinates to withdraw before raising the phone to his ear. 

“Did you have a smooth journey?” 

“The flight was delayed; I just arrived,” Duan Heng’s voice carried a hint of melancholy. “I missed you, Fourth Master.” 

The young man’s tone, reminiscent of a lover’s longing, struck Qiao Si with an unexpected sense of unease. He quickly changed to a different subject. “Why? Is work too exhausting?” 

“It’s manageable, actually…” Duan Heng paused for a moment. “But I really don’t want to act anymore. I want to be by your side every day, Fourth Master.” 

Qiao Si sank into his chair, his focus scanning through the list he had scrutinized countless times. The business was expanding rapidly, but the manpower was insufficient, a persistent issue that had been weighing on his mind. He spoke to Duan Heng while contemplating, “If no more acting, what else do you want to do?” 

“Anything is fine,” Duan Heng replied with a chuckle. “Why not assign me a personal task, Fourth Master? Do you need another driver?” 

Qiao Si thought for a moment and replied, “I’ll need to check your car insurance claim records first. I’m afraid I might not dare to use you after seeing them.” 

Duan Heng laughed, “If that’s the case, then let me serve you alongside Uncle Bo.” 

“That would be too much of a burden for you.” 

“It wouldn’t be. If you want, Fourth Master, I’ll serve you for a lifetime.” 

The directness of this statement made Qiao Si pause for a moment, his response tempered with careful consideration. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. I’m preparing you for great opportunities. If the workload becomes too overwhelming, delegate it. I’ll approve a vacation for you.” 

Two or three months passed, neither rushing by nor dragging on. Duan Heng’s extended absences were nothing unusual; he had never been to linger at Qiao Si’s side for long stretches of time, his responsibilities often taking him elsewhere. 

This time, however, felt different. The void he left behind carried a sharper edge, as if the very air had thinned in his absence. For the first time, Qiao Si was acutely aware of the emptiness, a quiet but persistent reminder of the space Duan Heng once occupied. 

Perhaps it was their physical intimacy that had irrevocably altered his perception. The memory of those playful twinkles in his eye now held a magnetic allure. Even the subtle slant of his monolid, a feature he had once found unremarkable, now seemed enchanting. The tall and broad frame that was cumbersome, now felt surprisingly convenient, making their moments together all the more effortless.  

Never before had Qiao Si relished someone’s company to this extent as he slowly came to recognize his preferences had grown more nuanced, his heart capable of experiencing a depth of affection he had previously deemed beyond his reach. 

As the conclusion of Duan Heng’s filming drew nearer, Qiao Si found himself surprisingly eager for his return. He arranged every detail for his staff to prepare a welcoming celebration in advance, intending it as a gesture to make up for their time apart. 

That night, Qiao Si rested on the soft bed as moonlight streamed through the window, casting an ethereal glow over the room. In a state between sleep and wakefulness, when suddenly a subtle shift in the air alerted him to someone’s presence. 

Instincts honed by years of vigilance were instantly triggered, sharpening his senses in urging caution. His hand moved to a prepared measure of defense, yet he kept his eyes closed, allowing the moment to unfold as he awaited further certainty. 

Safely enough to say, there was no trace of malice in the air, though the scent of the person, tinged by the weariness of travel, was unmistakably familiar. The tension in his body melted away as recognition washed over him, as he opened his eyes. 

“Fourth Master, you’re awake?” 

In the moonlight, his gaze drawn to the figure approaching and slightly raised himself. “Why are you here?” 

“Uncle Bo let me in,” the young man whispered. “He said you were already asleep and told me to stay for a little while before leaving. I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

Propping himself up on the pillow, Qiao Si shifted to a half-sitting position. “Weren’t you supposed to return tomorrow afternoon?” 

“I didn’t attend the wrap-up party, so I left earlier than the others. I’ve just arrived.” 

The mention of this caused Qiao Si to fully rouse. His eyes searched Duan Heng’s face with a quiet curiosity. “Is something wrong?” 

“No…” Duan Heng stood by the bed, looking down at him. “I just wanted to see you sooner.” 

Their eyes met in the dim light for a moment before Qiao Si spoke, breaking the silence. “You’ve worked hard. Go get some rest.” 

“Mn.” Duan Heng murmured in agreement, but his feet remained firmly planted. 

“What’s wrong?” 

The young man stood still, his voice carrying a quiet sincerity. “I just want to look at you a little longer.” 

This display of childlike innocence stirred a subtle emotion within Qiao Si. He responded, “You’re planning a vacation next, aren’t you? Where would you like to go? I’ll make the arrangements for you.” 

The young man replied, “Being by Fourth Master’s side is already a vacation.” 

Qiao Si studied him for a moment longer, noticing that he had indeed grown thinner from exhaustion. “Lie down with me,” he said. That night, Duan Heng slept beside him, though nothing more transpired; Qiao Si needed to be well-rested for the following day and refused to be disturbed. To stay refreshed, he even refrained from allowing himself to be held. The young man, undeterred, settled for embracing Qiao Si’s arm, falling into a deep sleep within close quarters. 

When morning came, Qiao Si awoke to find Duan Heng eyes softly tracing his features. Upon meeting his eyes, the young man’s lips curved into an unbidden smile. “Good morning,” he said, his voice warm with quiet contentment. 

Qiao Si acknowledged with a gentle hum, lazily rising from the bed. The mere thought of his packed schedule for the day alone was enough to make him feel weary. Observing the young man attending to him as he woke, Qiao Si noted his gentle demeanor, attentiveness, and perceptive understanding, not to mention his strength. 

Qiao Si had often considered that while a popular idol capable of amassing wealth was indeed a rare gem, having a capable and loyal confidant was an even rarer treasure. 

A man of Duan Heng’s caliber, with his abilities and the depth of his loyalty, was somewhat wasted as a mere movie star. As Duan Heng helped him put on his socks, Qiao Si spoke, “Once you’re done with this film, take on fewer projects. I’ll arrange some tasks for you.” 

Duan Heng, holding Qiao Si’s foot delicately on his lap, offered no protest or hesitation, his voice steady as he replied, “Understood.” Qiao Si’s gaze softened with approval, reached out his hand to ruffle the young man’s hair. 

Having an additional capable individual by his side would undoubtedly lighten his workload. Duan Heng would become his trusted confidant. Naturally, the extent of authority he would entrust him with would be a decision Qiao Si approached with deliberate caution. 

That afternoon, Yin Qing made an unexpected visit. The surprise quickly gave way to a quiet joy, prompting Qiao Si to swiftly rearrange his schedule, ensuring he could dedicate time to the unexpected guest. 

Yin Qing had recently undergone heart bypass surgery, had been recuperating in the countryside on the outskirts of the city, rarely venturing beyond the comfort of his home. That he chose to make the journey into the city today was heartening. 

Despite his advancing years, Yin Qing bore no signs of age on his face. His features were refined, exuding an elegant charm that bordered on scholarly; a consistently gentle demeanor with a slight smile. Although beneath this serene exterior lay a character whose methods were anything but gentle. 

Qiao Si sat across from him, pouring a cup of tea before offering a warm remark, “You look much better than before.” 

“Do I?” Yin Qing smiled, taking a sip of the tea. He then offered a word of praise for its quality, paused briefly, and then continued, “I’ve been thinking of retiring.” 

Qiao Si lingered in a moment of silence. 

“Xiao Qiao, my health is failing.” 

“…” 

“It’s inevitable. Even if I do come back and hold on for a little longer, there will still come a day when I won’t be here anymore.” 

Qiao Si lowered his gaze, his voice heavy with emotion. “Sir…” 

Qiao Si had long passed the age where farewells stirred a profound sense of desolation, yet he could not entirely suppress the twinge of melancholy in him. 

Yin Qing was more than a mentor; he was a father figure to him. He had guided Qiao Si’s every step, offering unwavering support and loyalty, even during the most turbulent of times. 

Yin Qing had always been a quiet pillar of support, eschewing ostentation while steadfastly standing behind him, even in the most tumultuous times. 

With Yin Qing’s departure, Qiao Si lost more than just a trusted ally or a sharp mind; it was the absence of a deep, irreplaceable foundation upon which he had relied. 

Yin Qing had battled through a lifetime of hardships, and his body could no longer endure the strain. He deserved to spend his remaining days in peace. 

Yin Qing reached his hand and gently patted Qiao Si’s shoulder. 

“I came to say goodbye.” 

Qiao Si lowered his head and murmured his acknowledgment. There was no need for many words; he deeply appreciated his mentor’s effort to travel all the way just to bid his final farewell. 

“Rest assured and focus on your recovery. I’ll take care of everything. If you need anything…” 

Yin Qing laughed and said, “With Jing Rui around, I won’t have a thing to worry about for the rest of my days. You don’t need to worry about me either. And please, don’t organize any farewell banquets. I can’t handle the bustle anymore.” 

Jing Rui, a young doctor who had been by Yin Qing’s side for years, was like a son to him. Tall and reserved, he stood as a quiet yet constant support, always in the background for standby. 

After a while, it became clear that Yin Qing was exhausted, and with Jing Rui accompanying him, they took their leave. Before parting, Yin Qing spoke once more, his voice quieter, laden with the weight of finality, “I won’t be able to help you anymore. From now on, you’re on your own.” 

Both men felt the sting of sorrow, yet neither allowed it to surface. They held their composure, each quietly battling the grief within, refusing to let it show. 

“If you ever need someone capable, Duan Heng is a good man, a real talent.” 

Qiao Si softly hummed in acknowledged. 

Yin Qing then gently tapped Qiao Si forehead. “I have my faith in you, except for your tendency to become overly attached. No matter what you encounter in the future, keep an open mind and don’t trap yourself. Learn to let go when needed.”